Harriet's Happenings: Extra Scene
by Bad Ass Female Fighter
Summary: Something I came up with that I thought should've happened in a "pay back is a bad bitch" kinda way. Read this if you wanna see the Pen and Plow catch fire.


_**I couldn't help myself. I had to write this.**_

* * *

I knew that Harriet, "Hairy Lip" as I like to call her, always enjoyed making gossip and hurting people with lies, but the Pen and Plow is the straw that broke the camel's back. Now, if I had a penny for every time that hag opened her mouth to spread hurtful rumors, I'd be the fucking owner of Walnut Grove and boot that bitch out of town and strand her in a forest to be mauled by bears and be left for the wolves to be turned into the piece of dog shit she is. Alas, that will forever remain one of my fantasies. Good news, there is an alternative I can happily fall back on; bad news, it's not legal. Then again, neither should Hairy Lip's mouth.

In the dead of night while the town slept, I picked the lock of the Pen and Plow and splashed the wood with flammable oil then methodically trailed it from the inside the outside until I am at a distance where I can light it then run into hiding before anyone sees me. When I was at a reasonable distance from the Pen and Plow, put the canister down beside me and took out the matches from my pocket then lit it. I stared at the harmless flame in my hand then smirked at the building I was about to destroy, "Plow this motherfuckers." I said as I let the match drop on the oil trail, grabbed the canister and walked away like a boss.

I watched from the shade of the building as the flames crawled towards the Pen and Plow before it started to take form from within then engulf the building. I smirked in satisfaction before I took the shortcut back home. Thankfully my folks were out of town for the weekend and will return by midafternoon, so I had nothing to worry about seeing how I was good kid that can be trusted to look after things at home. Hey, I'm not that crazy.

As I made my way home, I could distantly hear Mrs. Oleson's wails of despair the moment she sees her precious newspaper being burned to the ground in the middle of the night. I sighed and happily skipped home, swinging the canister in my hand until I reached my family's farm.

Morning came and I still had that little smile on my face as I walked to school, happy that no one will ever be hurt by Hairy Lip's gossip trade. I saw a column of smoke in the distance, laughing under my breath at where it was coming from.

When I entered the town, I saw the townsfolk gather around what used to be the Pen and Plow. Schooling my features to that of intrigue and confusion, I jogged up to the crowd and saw my friends Laura, Albert and Andy standing with their fathers. I made a bee line towards them as they surveyed the destruction.

"Whoa." I said with surprise as I came to stand beside them. Laura turned to greet me, "Hello."

I kept up the shocked façade as I surveyed the damage I caused, "What happened?"

It was Mr. Ingalls who answered my question, "Someone finally had enough."

"God maybe?" I quipped as Andy and Albert snickered, "He set my Uncle's house on fire, sent lightning down to his roof." They turned to me with incredulous expressions, I shrugged, "He said some very unchristian words while at church."

"Fair enough." Mr. Garvey nodded, though I could detect a hint of a smile on his face from one of the many odd stories that follow my family.

I heard the familiar sound of Harriet crying from within the Mercantile. "I take it Mrs. Oleson knows what happened." I said, glancing at the store then at my friends. "Yep." Andy said before the school bell started to ring. "We better get to school, by Pa." he said as the four of us walked together for class.

"So much for the Pen and Plow, I was thinking of working there with you and Albert, earn some cash you know." I said, moping at the "lost" opportunity.

"Don't worry. It's better _not_ to work there. So many people have been hurt by that paper." Albert said as I walked between him and Andy.

I widened my eyes slightly in response, "Really? Huh, oh well. So, should we feel sorry for Mrs. Oleson or something?"

"Or something." Laura, Albert and Andy said in unison, making us laugh together as we approached the schoolhouse.


End file.
